


Forgotten and Remembered

by TsaritsaElena



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, M/M, Memory Loss, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Skinny!Steve, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 15:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3073142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TsaritsaElena/pseuds/TsaritsaElena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After breaking free from Hydra's programming and living with Steve for two months, Bucky Barnes is starting to recover from the trauma of the past seventy years, but he's missing a lot of pieces. When a mission gone awry leaves Bucky face-to-face with a pre-serum Steve, it may just be the catalyst Bucky needs to unlock his hidden memories—for good and for bad.</p><p>Written for the Sebastian Stan Secret Santa Fanworks Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten and Remembered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sadsongssaysomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadsongssaysomuch/gifts).



> Merry Stanmas, sadsongssaysomuch! I tried to put some hurt/comfort in here but it didn't turn out exactly as planned, sorry about that! >_>; Regardless, I hope you still enjoy the Steve/Bucky.
> 
>  **Pairing:** Steve/Bucky/Peggy if you choose read this under an electron microscope, otherwise just Steve/Bucky.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don’t own any of these characters or copyrighted material, and I’m certainly not making any money or other material profit off of this fanfiction. No copyright infringement is intended.

When Bucky woke up, the sun was streaming through the window, warming his face and casting shadows on the wall. After two months of living in Avengers Tower and two months of waking up in the middle of the night, sweat drenched and screaming in Russian, it was a welcome change.

The recent switch to sleeping in Steve's bed with him was what had finally helped calm the nightmares and occasionally let him sleep through the night. It was Steve who had pointed it out first, after they'd both fallen asleep on the couch and slept all the way through the night without disturbance. The first time Steve had offered to have Bucky sleep in his bed, Bucky hadn't understood. He'd thought Steve was _telling_ him, wanted to use him, but he'd been wrong. Steve wasn't like that. Steve was _never_ like that.

He only ever wanted to help Bucky, sitting up with him when he woke up from a nightmare, taking care of him when he had a panic attack or flashback, and most of all, making sure Hydra couldn't get to him.

Bucky heard a faint rustling noise in the background and then Steve was walking into the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

"Morning, Buck," he said as he passed by, rummaging in the dresser for something to wear.

Bucky didn't reply as an image of a time and place far away flashed through his mind.

"We used to share quarters in the field. During the war."

Steve froze, halfway through putting on his shirt. Then he popped his head through the top of the white tee and looked straight at Bucky. "You remember that?"

Bucky nodded. He had very few memories of Steve; most of what had come back to him so far was about missions for Hydra or conditioning in the Red Room. The few memories he did have of Steve were of the war, fighting side by side. He knew that they had grown up together—the Smithsonian's Captain America exhibit had told him that much—but he didn't _remember_ it.

So far, Steve had refused to tell him about their life before the war except when he slipped up by accident. Steve was adamant that Bucky regain his memories on his own, not have Steve impose them on him. Steve insisted Bucky would either remember or he wouldn't, and as much as he wanted Bucky's memories to come back, he would accept Bucky as he was.

That was all well and good, but Bucky just wanted to know who he had been. Maybe if he knew that, it would help him become someone new, something other than Hydra's highly prized weapon.

A shrill noise startled both of them and Steve grabbed his Avengers' communicator instantly. "Duty calls."

"Be safe," Bucky told him, as he always did.

 

With Bucky yet not cleared for field duty and Steve out fighting the latest threat to the Earth—this time a Norse god named Loki who also happened to be Thor's brother—Bucky worried and waited with JARVIS like he always did.

After he first moved into the tower, Bucky had been afraid of JARVIS. When he was with Hydra, he knew someone was always watching him but the rules were simpler. They told him what to do and he got punished if he didn't do it, or if there was a malfunction. With Steve and the Avengers, there were far fewer rules and they generally revolved around Bucky not hurting himself, but the idea that someone, JARVIS, was _watching_ set him on edge.

Bucky had only relaxed once he realized JARVIS wasn't going to tattle on him unless it was an emergency. In fact, JARVIS had been the one to keep his secret when he wanted to surprise Steve with his newfound memory of how to make pancakes. JARVIS hadn't reported Bucky or scolded him for taking initiative, which was new. Hydra would have. JARVIS also had been the one alert Steve the last few times Bucky had been having a panic attack, short of breath and unable to call for help. Gradually, Bucky found a grudging respect for the AI. JARVIS had even once suggested streaming the video feed from Tony Stark's helmet so that Bucky would have an idea of what was going on during the Avengers' fights, but after the first time Steve was hurt and Bucky wasn't there to protect him, Bucky and JARVIS both decided it was better if Bucky not watch what was going on in real time.

Which was why, when JARVIS informed him that the Avengers had returned and had immediately brought an injured Steve to the medbay, Bucky was not prepared for the sight that awaited him.

 

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. The energy in the medbay was a frenzied buzz, with Dr. Banner hovering over a prone form that could only be Steve and Stark grilling Thor with question after question. It was only when Bucky got closer did he see the problem.

Steve was unconscious alright, but he was also small and skinny and pale as death as he lay there stripped of his masked costume. Bucky paused, unsure if he was hallucinating now or if he had been hallucinating earlier that day. Sometimes when he got a memory back, he would remember a false one, or remember several memories that blurred together so that he couldn't tell which fragments belonged to which event.

Quietly, he began to panic, wondering if he was having another episode where he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. Eyes wild, he sought out Natasha in the room. "He was bigger this morning. ...Wasn't he?" His voice sounded small as he looked to her for guidance. Steve had said that if he was ever in trouble, Bucky was to go to Natasha or Sam for help. Bucky knew she wouldn't lie to him.

"Yes, he was," she replied, her voice firm. "You're not imagining anything. This is real."

The tightness in his chest eased up, but only a little, because Steve was now so _small_ and sickly looking. Like he was Before the war.

Bucky blinked, a memory coming back to him, of a cold winter night and a steaming bowl of chicken soup and a sick, skinny Steve like this one. It unlocked a similar memory, and then another, and another. There was one of a _tiny_ Steve, weak and in bed, and a kind woman with blonde hair who thanked him for stopping by with Steve's schoolbooks, even though he was really there to sneak Steve the latest comic book issue.

Bucky suddenly knew that Steve used to be sick, a _lot_.

"What happened?" Bucky didn't take his eyes off of Steve, especially as Dr. Banner continued to fuss, taking blood and saliva samples from the unconscious Steve.

"My brother has placed a spell on the good Captain," Thor explained solemnly. "He wished to make the Captain a _man out of time_ , as he has so often taunted. The spell causes the victim to regress in age and memory, while still remaining in the present time. Most literally, it has put him out of time."

"What do you mean _put him out of time_?!" Bucky shouted. "Is is permanent?"

"Nay, I have seen this spell before. Rest assured, its effects will wane in half a fortnight. The Captain shall regain his usual stature and his memories."

Bucky refused to relent, glaring at him anyway while silently hoping and praying that Thor was right.

"He's awake," Clint, who had been silent this whole time, announced.

Tony loomed close in Steve's personal space. "What year is it, Capsicle?"

"What's a capsicle?" Steve grumbled, instinctively leaning away from Tony, but he also answered with a yawn, "1943."

Bucky jostled Thor and Natasha out of his way, rushing to Steve's side. Steve scrunched up his face, pain and discomfort evident in every line of his body. He listed to one side, blinking rapidly as he opened his eyes.

"Bucky? Wha's goin' on? Don' feel so good."

"It's okay, Steve. Go back to sleep." Bucky told him gently. Steve's eyes fluttered close and he succumbed to sleep once more.

 

While he was asleep, Bruce ran several tests, concluding that pre-serum Steve was thankfully not harboring any illnesses like pneumonia or the flu, but he did have a run-of-the-mill cold and with his asthma, it was recommended that he stay in bed and rest as much as possible. Bruce handed Bucky an inhaler and the team moved Steve back up to his bedroom, getting him settled beneath the covers.

As if on cue, Steve's eyes opened and Bucky watched as he acclimated himself to the room, taking in the soft bed and the large bedroom.

Steve turned to his right, where Bucky had just pulled up a chair. "Bucky!" His eyes flicked across Bucky's face, widening in surprise. Finally, his eyes moved downward and Bucky knew exactly what Steve was looking at: his metal arm. "What happened, Buck? Are you okay?" Steve gasped. He threw off the covers and swung his feet to the side of the bed, leaning over to grasp Bucky's metal arm.

This time it was Bucky's turn for his eyes to go wide as he shied away from the touch. Steve _never_ touched Bucky unless he announced it beforehand and telegraphed all of his movements.

This smaller Steve must have noticed the difference, too, because he paused, staring at Bucky in confusion until a coughing fit broke the moment. The sounds soon turned into rasping noises as Steve struggled for air but came up short each time.

Instinctively, Bucky scrambled for the inhaler in his pocket, supporting Steve up as he instructed his friend to breathe in on the count of three. He got Steve to take two puffs and waited until his breathing returned to normal before propping up the pillows and gently encouraging Steve to sit back.

Imminent danger over, Bucky looked down at his hands, hands that had known exactly what to do and hands that hadn't been afraid of touching Steve the way he knew Steve needed. Bucky, who usually had to work up to being touched or touching someone else, had done all of that without a moment's thought and without any anxiety. The only uncomfortable feeling now was the strangeness that he _didn't_ feel as anxious as he expected he would.

"Bucky?" Steve asked again, jerking him out of his reverie. Bucky looked up to meet Steve's suspicious gaze. "Who _are_ these people?"  
  
"I..." Still feeling unsettled, Bucky hesitated, unsure of how to explain it. He realized the supreme irony of _Steve_ waking up in a room full of strangers who could be dangerous, and having nothing but a version of his friend to be his guide. "It's okay, Steve. They're your friends. Why don't you let them explain?"

 

And so, sometime later, Steve arched his eyebrows and, with his arms folded, said, "So lemme get this straight. Normally I'm a foot taller, a hundred pounds heavier, and the captain of a... special forces team? And the year is 2014?"

"Aye, Captain," Thor told him. "I must apologize, for it was my brother who cast this cursed spell upon you. I believe he meant it to be a distraction for us while he plots his next move."  
  
"JARVIS, make sure you ramp up worldwide surveillance of the Norse god," Tony said in the direction of the ceiling. From the look on Steve's face, Bucky could tell he had no context for what any of that meant.  
  
"Loki cast a temporal spell," Dr. Banner reiterated in a gentle voice. "You're not a clone and you didn't time-travel _from_ 1943\. You essentially time-travelled within your own body."

"But it'll wear off?" Steve coughed again, a ragged wet sound. Bucky handed him a glass of water which he drank from gratefully.

Natasha nodded. "In about a week."

"You won't remember any of this," Clint added.

Steve looked dubious. Then he turned to Bucky and asked simply, "This all true?"

Bucky nodded earnestly. "Yeah." That seemed to settle the matter in Steve's mind and Bucky was startled by how implicitly Steve trusted him. Bucky didn't even know if he trusted _himself_ that much right now.

"Don't worry, Cap.  You'll be back to your old self in no time," Clint added. He looked troubled and Steve grinned, trying for reassurance. Of course, then he started coughing again, which kind of ruined the effect.

"Why don't we let Steve get some rest, guys?" Dr. Banner suggested. The Avengers all nodded, but when none of them started to move, Bucky shooed them out, announcing that he was capable of looking after Steve.

That got him a few raised eyebrows—not surprising since Bucky was well-aware that several of them thought he could barely take care of himself, even though he was doing _much_ better since breaking free from Hydra—but he promised that JARVIS would tell them right away if something went wrong. Thankfully, Natasha intervened and announced to the others that she felt Bucky was capable of looking after a sick Captain, which led the others to acquiesce. Finally, it was just him and Steve, who began coughing again.

Immediately, Bucky handed him the glass of water. "Dr. Banner says you just have a cold, not pneumonia. I'll stay here to look after you. I ain't got anywhere else to be."

Steve gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Buck. You always take care of me."

Bucky thought about those memories he had unlocked, the ones of him checking up on a skinny, sickly Steve. It seemed strange that he had cared for Steve first, when all Bucky had known for the past two months was Steve's constant care and encouragement as Bucky adjusted to a Hydra-free life.

Stunned, he was slow to answer, but when he did, he murmured, "You take care of me, too."

 

The first two days of looking after Steve were easy, since for the most part he was too tired and too short of breath to do anything more than eat and sleep. Looking after a much smaller Steve also meant that Bucky had to sleep by himself in Steve's spare room. Needless to say, getting a full night's sleep wasn't in the cards for Bucky.

For the fourth time in two nights, Bucky struggled against the restraints on the chair. This time, he was fighting his way toward a rapidly disappearing Steve who was being dragged away. He woke up terrified, shouting, " _NO! I WON'T LET YOU TAKE HIM!_ " at the top of his lungs. Once he realized the restraints were his tangled up bedsheets, he called upon JARVIS to turn on the lights, half-dimmed.

Bucky was still breathing heavily, trying to collect himself, when a sleepy Steve padded into his room, a blanket draped around his shoulders. Instantly, Bucky felt guilty. "I wake you up? 'M sorry, Stevie."

"S'ok," Steve told him through a yawn. He climbed onto the bed and sat close, pressing against Bucky's side. Bucky allowed it. He was rapidly discovering how tactile the two of them had been before the war, how effortlessly Steve stepped into Bucky's space without making it feel like an intrusion or a threat.

At first he'd been startled when this Steve would touch him, and at first he allowed it because he didn't want to see the hurt, confused look on his friend's face when he pulled away. However, after the third time, Bucky realized he was beginning to feel comforted by it. His therapist surmised that Steve's small stature and his inability to pose a real physical threat to a serum-ed Bucky was why he wasn't alarmed by it. He thought that was just about right, but there was also something familiar with Steve's touch, not a memory but a feeling tugging at his senses.  
  
After they had been quiet for a time, Steve asked, "Wanna talk about it?"

Bucky shook his head vehemently. He really _did not_ want to talk about it with Steve; he could count on one hand the number of times he'd talked to the bigger Steve about his nightmares, and he wasn't in the mood to share now, either.

Steve brought his hand up to Bucky's shoulder, tracing the red star with his finger. He looked sad and worried. "During the war... They hurt you. Didn't they."

Bucky couldn't stand to see that look on his face. Without thinking about what he was doing, he pulled Steve to his chest, burying his face in Steve's hair. Steve latched on like a barnacle, hugging back for all it was worth. When Bucky let go, he told Steve, "You came for me," because it was true. Steve had helped Bucky remember who he was. Steve had—

Bucky blinked and stilled, another memory coming back to him, of being tied down, pleading and reciting his enlisted number, of Steve ripping the straps off altogether, of taking him out of that place. "You came for me," he repeated. Steve had come to rescue him not once, but twice.

"Hey, hey. Remember, Buck? I'm with ya—"

"—'til the end of the line," they finished in sync, their gaze never breaking.

 

Later, once he realized that Bucky wouldn't get sick from his cold, Steve suggested they sleep together to help ward off Bucky's nightmares. For all his cajoling and arguing, Bucky refused to allow it, terrified of what he might do to Steve during an episode before the Avengers could get there. They compromised, with Bucky carrying his bed into Steve's room so that they could at least sleep in the same room as each other. It lessened the nighttime episodes, anyways.

When Steve started feeling better on the third day, but not well enough to move around much, Bucky made sure he had drawing supplies and books at his disposal, especially for when Bucky had to duck out for his therapy session. Sketching and reading got old quickly, and for the most part, Steve filled his recovery time in Bucky's company.

Steve caught on quickly that Bucky didn't want to talk about Hydra, for which Bucky was grateful, especially given that soon enough, Steve wouldn't remember anything that happened this week. He also caught on to the fact that Bucky didn't remember practically anything about their life before the war and as a result, tended to spend time recounting one of those stories after another. He once asked Bucky if he was supposed to be reminding him of these memories he didn't have, and while Bucky didn't exactly _lie_ , he didn't say anything to the contrary. Actually, he didn't say anything at all about it.

Thing was, Bucky was pretty sure Steve's mere presence in his pre-serum form was jogging his memory already. 

"Remember that time we were sixteen and we tried to sneak out to that ball game?" Steve would say.

Bucky would pause and, as if on cue, the memory would return. "You mean during school hours and Sister Mary Margaret dragged us back by our ears as if we were ten?" came his rejoinder, the two of them laughing all the while.

Or sometimes it was, "Remember that time Jimmy MacDonald stole your baseball cards?"

"And you stole them back for me but not before letting a garden snake loose in his knapsack? 'Course I do," Bucky would say before he even had a chance to think about it, and suddenly, he would know it was true.

Then, after a few days more, it was Bucky who started it first, "Remember that time I made you ride the Cyclone on Coney Island?"

"Yeah, and I threw up?" Steve finished, a mixture of exasperation and fondness in his expression.

Bucky blinked, realizing what he'd done. He remembered the Cyclone all right, but he also remembered... "I said that to you before. During the war. On a mountain."

Steve, who obviously couldn't remember that, fell silent. Then, before Steve could be sad or worried about it on Bucky's behalf, Bucky let it go, putting on a smile for Steve and jostling him at the elbow as they sat together on the couch.

The two of them did more than just talk in the remainder of the week. They played cards together or watched baseball together—Steve couldn't get over how _big_ the TV was or how crisp the color picture appeared. Sometimes an Avenger or two would stop by and they'd play charades, Bucky and Steve winning against the others constantly. When Steve grew restless, they sat out on his balcony as he sketched the world from the clouds, although Bucky insisted he wore a blanket to keep warm while they were out there.

Spending time together was nice. _This_ Steve didn't know who the Asset was and so he couldn't skirt around Bucky's issues the same way _his_ Steve did, or treat Bucky differently because of it, as though he was made of glass. The doctors and therapists probably would have said Steve's tactile nature and his recounting of old memories was bad for Bucky's recovery but with more and more memories returning and with him feeling more at ease with Steve than ever, Bucky couldn't bring himself to care.

Of course, it had to be on the last day of Steve being under the spell that he finally _remembered_.

All at once, his _whole life_ came back to him in a rush—all the moments he'd spent with Steve before the war, but also all the moments he'd had with his mom and dad and sisters and all the moments he hadn't remembered as the Winter Soldier and all the moments as Sergeant James Barnes of the 107th and— _oh_.

_Ensconced in their tent, soft lips pressed against his, warmth radiating out from the man next to him. They pulled away and, dumbstruck, he asked, "What about Agent Carter?"_

_Steve's eyes were reassuring. "We'll work it out. And there's more where that came from, but we got that mission tomorrow."_

_"Right," his face fell, but the thought of more buoyed him up for the mission he was dreading. "After we snatch Zola from that train, I'm draggin' you back to base an' holdin' ya to that."_

_The other man grinned and laughed, a promise of more to come._

 

When Steve returned to his regular super-serumed self that day, he didn't remember the past week. The Avengers explained what had happened to him and how Bucky had looked after him while he was sick.

For Bucky's part, he was still reeling from having regained all of his lost memories and if he made himself scarce that week, the others on the team didn't mention it. He felt bad for avoiding Steve, but he needed time to process what had happened to him and to deal with all of the new memories, especially the ones of how Hydra and the Red Room had made him into what he was. For that reason, he was infinitely grateful that his therapist had called in sick for the week; he didn't know what he would say.

Toward the end of the week, Bucky skipped town and showed up unexpectedly in Westchester. He trained those kiddies and sparred with Logan during the day, spending his nights in silence while conversing with Xavier, a task made easier when he didn't have put words to the feelings in his mind.

When Bucky returned, he meant to invite Natasha to spar with him but somehow instead spent the evening on the couch with her, recounting some of his newly gained memories and working out their past history together.

Bucky knew he couldn't avoid Steve forever, though. The next morning, when he thought Steve might have gone out for a run, Steve was instead there in the kitchen, waiting for him.

" _Bucky_ ," he said, and there was a quiet note of desperation in his voice. "We need to talk."

Steve was right. They did and Bucky was finally ready for it. He took a deep breath and nodded, sitting down in the chair next to Steve.

"I'm sorry about what happened," Steve said right away. "When you came here two months ago, I told you that I'd look after you, that I'd keep you safe from Hydra, and I know that last week I—"

"Steve, _no!_ That's not it at all." Bucky shook his head vehemently. Trust Steve to always want to protect Bucky, and to feel guilty over something out of his control. "You're talkin' crazy. No one would blame you for what Loki did to you."

Steve furrowed his brow. "Then what— this week, why did you...?"

"It was about me, Steve. Seein' you little again, it brought back more memories. _All_ of 'em, to be precise."

It was Steve's turn to widen his eyes in surprise. "Bucky! Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I needed to work it out for myself. All the good came back... but so did all the bad, all the stuff from the Red Room and Hydra that I tried to forget."

"Oh." Steve looked sad, and Bucky knew it was worry for his sake.

"'S why I went to Xavier's a few days ago and why I've been talkin' to Natasha. Needed to work some things out. But I'm good now. I remember everything," he repeated. "Including the night before... _Zola_ on the train." He waited for Steve to figure it out, for it to register in Steve's eyes before he said, "I'll understand if your feelings have, uh, changed since then. 'S been a long time an' I'm not exactly the guy I used to be."

"I know, Buck." Steve swallowed hard. "We've both changed, but you're still the person I care most about in this world an' _that's_ not gonna change." He started to make a gesture with his arms, like he wanted to hug Bucky, but then stopped once he caught himself.

Bucky grinned broadly. He felt more comfortable in his skin now than in the past two months and he was ready for Steve's touch. _More_ than ready. "C'mere, ya big mook." As they embraced, Bucky leaned in and felt the warmth radiating out from Steve. Those soft lips met his for the first time this century, in what felt like an eternity since the last time. It was a completion of a promise long-given, a memory now recovered, and hope for what was to come.

_Fin_


End file.
